Debauchery
by Cheeruplilemokid
Summary: The tall red head stood before her. Eyes hard, connecting with her own and sending chills down her spine. Those were haunting eyes. Those were confused, wanting eyes. HrG
1. Habit

Debauchery

**Habit**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros. And whoever the hell else owns it. Don't sue me. I make no profit.

:looks inside wallet:

I've got two bucks, a stick of gum and my I.D. card. Honest. I have nothing else.

Warning: This is Femme Slash. I don't know if I want to put slash in this one but if its requested I'll put a little bit in. And if it fits the little half assed plot I have for this. Yeah, I've decided to start having plots for the stories I make up. Heh. Anyways, self-mutilation, drugs and maybe some violence later.

Author's Note:

Me. Yet again. I guess I have no self-control. Here's another story. I think I like this one so I'll probably finish it. And if you want to know about Jealousy and Envy here ya go. It'll be done once I figure out how to kill off the baddies. I feel like I totally fucked up the whole surface for it. I didn't really stick to the stories roots and I've been all pissy about that. Heh. Enough of this, on with the story.

* * *

She didn't know why she did it. Only that she did. And that it had gotten out of control. She desperately wanted to stop. She wanted it to be over with. The pain gone. The tears dissolved. The scars invisible. And especially the pure sedated satisfaction. 

But how could she deny this… this utter pleasure. This simple haven. How could she deny all the bliss?

Simple. She couldn't. She couldn't stop no matter how hard she'd tried. The thought of stopping cold turkey haunted her. She couldn't get through the day; it seemed, without her daily activity accomplished. Without feeling that sheer sense of completion. That contentment.

The self-loathing afterwards was worth it. She smirked. It was always worth it. It always is worth it.

Her fingers itched, her skin tingling in anticipation. She opened the door to the abandoned broom closet. The shittyness of the day was getting to her. She licked her lips. She couldn't wait anymore. She needed to feel it. She achingly wanted to feel it.

She pulled the cold piece of metal from beneath the deteriorating shelf. There was still a bit of blood on it. A dried smear of shame. She stared intently at the blade. It almost glittered in the darkness. It shone for her.

Examining the pale white scars across her wrist her smirk faded into a sad smile. This was a drug. A drug that brought forth a surreal escape from life. An escape from the stress. An escape from the expectation.

The metal slid slowly across her pale flesh, mechanically. It was all protocol. She did it at least three times a day now. It was habit. Familiar habit.

She pulled the knife away. Waiting for that beautiful sting. Waiting for that pure euphoria. For the blood to rush to her ears. For the pain.

The white mark turned red. She sucked in a breath, reflex. It didn't hurt as much anymore. Now all she had to do was wait for that white-hot pain, that white-hot pleasure.

Ah…

It surged through her very being. Mouth forming into a perfect 'o' her eyelids fluttered shut. Her breathes deepened to calm her speeding heart. The adrenaline was one of the good parts. The girl's breathing calmed, her closed eyelids opening slightly.

A drop of blood fell to the floor. Her elated trance ended. The debauchery of her actions hit her. The degrading voice sunk in. Sneering and chiding and taunting as always.

'_Are you that desperate?'_

She shook her head slowly, trying to be rid of the voice. Be rid of her conscience.

'_Are you that set on destroying yourself?'_

The questions. Little inquiries filling her mind. Overriding the feeling of pleasure. Overriding her surreal world, making things all too real. She shook her head. She wanted to say no. To shout at that damned voice.

'_You're weak.'_

No… no…

'_Yes. Yes. Yes. Don't fool yourself.'_

Shutting her eyes against the teasing jest of the voice she leaned her head against the old shelf. The tears fell. Meandering down from her eyes to her chin where they gathered and fell. She could already feel the blood on her arm drying.

The voice in her head laughed. It laughed at her. At her feebleness. At her vulnerability. Quiet sobs shook her, becoming louder with each falling tear. She dropped the knife pathetically, bringing her hand up slowly to grip the edge of the diminishing old shelf. She tried to hold the sobs in, only serving to make them loud gasps.

_'Why the hell are you crying?'_

"It… hurts…" she gripped her chest with her other hand. Rubbing at the cold flesh. Trying to put some warmth back into herself. Trying to stop the tortured organ beneath her breast from quivering and aching so pitifully. Trying to melt the ice starting to surround her dying heart.

_'Because it hurts? You did it. You're the one hurting yourself.'_

And then she laughed through her sniffles. Manic laughter that stirred her. Roused the unbridled rage. The one roaring flame aimed at herself. The gun that she pointed, the one she held steadily straight in front of the mirror at her dreary reflection. Aimed to kill.

'_Have you really gone bonkers?'_

"Maybe…" A low guttural growl emitting from her hoarse throat. Her hand gripped tighter at the shelf. A bout of uninhibited rage tore at her. She let it. With a few splintering cracks and an audible thump the shelf was reduced to three separately scattered pieces. The voice still echoed. Still taunted her.

_'Weak… weak… weak…'_

* * *

A billow of smoke issued from her faintly parted lips as she sat against the windowsill, staring up at the crescent moon above. She knew she should quit. It was a bad habit. A habit that she'd kept very tightly wound. No one knew about her smoking and she liked it that way.

She took another puff of the proclaimed 'cancer stick' she thrived off of. It was an instant stress reliever. She knew better though. It wasn't a frequent stress relief. Just a last resort. She'd always hid a pack of cigarettes around somewhere. Carefully out of sight so that no professor could find it unless they'd really looked. Not like they would. Who would pin her for a smoker?

Pulling the cigarette from her mouth yet again she proceeded to stare at it. The burning tip would fall onto the carpet, the fire within the ash dissipating before it touched the ground. Then all there would be were specks of dust floating around. Brittle gray dust. She took another puff.

The red copper look of the burning tip enticed her. Fire was bright. Fire was beautiful. Fire could burn. It was a deadly thing. A lively thing. It attracted and repelled. Destroyed and created. Took and gave. It was something glorious and its simple beauty bewildered her.

She flicked the butt of the cigarette and ash went floating about the room. Landing in various places. She'd have to do a spell later to get rid of the smell. The damned thing was almost out.

Bringing the cigarette to her lips she took one last long drag. Letting the feel of toxic substance stick to her lungs and calm her mind. She sighed heavily, mouth closed, eyes shut letting the smoke filter out through her nose. She threw the butt of the cigarette into the air, waving her wand and muttering a spell she watched the thing sparkle and vanish into nothingness.

Her lips were dry and her throat parched. Looking at the now warm bottle of beer beside her she took a sip. It stung. She cringed. Taking another sip she leaned her head back against the wall savoring the tingle of pain as the liquid made its way into her stomach.

She had to stop this. Another dangerous habit. She'd die before she hit the age of twenty-one. Of course, there were worst things she'd done. Other habits she wished she could break. She looked over to her bed. Yes, there were worst things she did.

* * *

Author's Note: 

That was interesting…


	2. A Tryst

Debauchery

**A Tryst**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Femme Slash. Mature themes. Violence. Language.

Thanks:

JellifiedToast: Kool. Thanks.

Kazutaka: Wow. Thanks. :)

takenbydrama: Kool. I think I'll check it out after I post. Thanks. I like the pen name by the way.

Here we go…

* * *

:Hermione:

Pressing her heated forehead to the chilled glass of the window the brunette exhaled. The cigarette smoke mixed with alcohol brought her to a numbing sort of bliss. She looked back up at the moon. It was covered now. Dark clouds shrouded the glowing crescent from view. She sighed heavily.

The rustling of sheets echoed in the quiet room. More rustling. She looked to the place the sound came from. There was a light groan and she got up, striding quietly over to her bed's occupant. The person groaned again. She sat on the edge of the bed. The figure moved slightly and then stopped all together.

Hazel eyes landed on a tall figure. Her gaze moved up along the tall figures frame until she was met with a head of flaming red hair. She'd shared her bed with only two other people. Both had red hair. Both had charming blue eyes. Both had numerous freckles. And both held a piece of her heart. She loved them both.

Love. The brunette never thought it would be this confusing. She never thought it would leave her so… stuck. Where did friendship end and romance begin? When did 'I love you' become 'I'm in love with you'? When did it all start and how would it end? That was the real question. The frightening one.

She looked once more to the red head sprawled across one side of her bed. She stared and stared hard. Though her eyes could only make out one sleeping form, her minds eye saw two. Two people. Two hearts. Two minds. Completely different from the other. The girl frowned bitterly.

Ron was her first. First kiss. First love. First. He was safe. He'd always be there. She felt safe around him. Content in his strong freckled arms. She sighed happily when his warm breath tickled her skin. Found his embarrassed blush endearing. His lopsided grin made her smile. She knew he would keep her safe no matter what. She felt at home with him. He was her sanity. He held half of her heart in the palm of his had and she loved him with that half.

Ginny was exciting. Ginny was passionate. Ginny made her stomach skitter and her head spin. Made her ache, made her want, made her need. The younger girl ensued depths of passion in her that she knew Ron couldn't. She felt wanted with Ginny, like she had a reason. She felt completely and utterly… alive. When Ginny's lips were on hers there was no tomorrow, just the moment. It was just then and there. The younger girl held the other half of her heart captive. She held the other half of her mind.

How could she choose between the two?

She waved her wand. A quick swish and flick to get rid of the permeating smell of smoke. All traces of her habit were gone. If only love could be that easy. If it were, she thought sullenly, then it wouldn't be love. She sighed at the thought, lying stiffly next to the sleeping Weasely. The sheets rustled and freckled arms embraced her from behind. Warm breath hit her neck. She yawned. She would figure this out tomorrow. Tomorrow.

* * *

:Ginny:

I just stare at her. Wondering. Where did this go wrong? Where did this go right? How did this even happen?

My mind soon finds the questioning boring and I'm subject to my body's desires yet again. Now I stare at her. Just stare. Admiring her. Brown curls that had lost their massive bushiness long ago, wonderfully tanned skin and a slender form. She's beautiful. Perfection in human form.

I find my eyes lingering on her neck. Elegant. How I wish my lips were on her neck. Biting, licking, sucking and leaving marks against supple flesh. I stare at her lips. Lush pink fullness. As soft and enticing as their appearance. My gaze travels higher, only to meet hazel eyes. Simple at times. But oh the depth those eyes portray, the emotion, the desire. I could get lost in her hazel eyes for hours on end. Like I find myself doing right now.

_'Look away… look away…'_

It's all I can do to try. I know if this goes on it'll only bring pain. Pain that I'd like to avoid. Hurt I'd like to escape. But I cant. She has me wrapped around a slender finger. Has me needing her just to survive. Has me loving her. In love with her. And it's starting to eat away at me. She's an addiction that I can't fight. An addiction that'll wear down on me until the day I die.

She looks away. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her breathing a little heavier than before. I smirk at that. I seem to have a different effect on her. The brunette turns to my brother saying a minimal few words before getting up and walking out of the Great Hall. And of course, I follow. Unnoticed. I guess I'll just have a big breakfast.

The woman walks down the corridor hurriedly. I grin. It's always a game of cat and mouse with Hermione. But which part do I play in our intricate game? She turns a corner and I follow cautiously. A quick glance around assures me that no one is following.

I walk into an old broom closet. One of my favorite places. I scoff at the thought, remembering the broken shelf from yesterday. I should have cleaned that up. Closing the door silently behind me I sneak up behind the brunette. My arms snake around her waist. My lips move immediately to her neck. She stands in my arms despondently. That's not like her.

Looking up I find her gaze elsewhere. She's looking at the shelf. At the knife. At the blood. And she knows. I move to let go of her but she grabs a hold of my wrist and silently lifts up the sleeve, staring at the scars. Fingering the neat white lines across my pale flesh. The new that the old.

"I thought we'd talked about this." Her voice is soft as she turns to face me.

"I know," I cant look her in the eyes. I turn my gaze elsewhere, "I know."

She lets go of my wrist. Her hand is against my cheek now, turning my face to her. I wont look her in the eyes. "Then… why?"

"I just had a really bad day. That's all… a bad day." I gulp at the lump in my throat. That wasn't a lie. It wasn't the whole truth either.

"Ginny…" She wipes something from beneath my eye. By the wet and warm feel of it, I guess it's a tear. "Look at me, please."

I take a deep breath. It comes out all shuddery. My eyes meet hers. She looks worried. Guilty. I can't hold her gaze. I do the only thing that can stop this conversation from continuing. I swoop down, pressing my lips to hers. Silencing all protest. She doesn't fight against me. She doesn't want to talk about it anymore than I do. The thought issues a small twinge of pain in my heart. I push it back.

Her lips are silk. Her is tongue bliss against mine. The taste of her mouth, sweet ambrosia. My hands move to her hair. Running through easy curls. I bring our bodies closer to one another and push her back against the wall. Never breaking our languid series of heated kisses. My hands move to the base of her neck, scrapping against sensitive skin. She shivers against me and I smirk into her lips.

The brunette's hands move to the small of my back, tugging at the hem of my shirt, pulling the confining garment over my head. Once removed, my lips travel to her neck. Her moan amazes me. Low and animalistic. So unlike her. I ravish the tender skin against my mouth. Fulfilling my earlier daydreams and nipping roughly at her neck. My hands move to her shirt, undoing button by button slowly. She growls, switching our positions. Ever the patient one she is.

She leans in, her lips capturing mine. Her kisses are frantic, harsh, and rough. She hates doing this slowly. She unbuttons her own shirt quickly, throwing it somewhere across the darkened room. Her hands move to my arms, pinning them against the wall and kissing me harder. Her mouth moves lower, leaving rough bites along my neck and chest. She licks an erect nipple through the fabric of my bra. I gasp.

The hazel-eyed woman moves quickly, lifting her knee up to meet my hot center. I moan and begin to do the same to her. She gasps, pulling away from my chest. Her grip around my arms slackens and I reclaim the dominant position. I grind my thigh harder into her and she half gasp, half moans. I pull my thigh back, teasing.

* * *

Biting the older woman's bottom lip hungrily, she tugged the brunette's body closer, if that was even possible. Running her hands up into Hermione's skirt, she scrambled for skin, needing desperately to touch and feel and taste the heat building up in every particle of her being. Drunk on the intensity, intoxicated by the moans, dizzy, her head swimming, her body wanting. The red head scraped her fingertips along a smooth thigh before palming the hot, soaked panties. Creating vigorous friction against the older woman's hot center.

Hermione was flushed, head thrown back in carnal ecstasy, breathing in jagged gasps. She opened her eyes, meeting Ginny's with a look of pure, untainted desire. Breathing in, she bit her swollen bottom lip enticingly. Seducing Ginny into leaning forward to capture those glossy ruby lips in a heated kiss.

Ginny pulled away, exhilarated. The edges of her lips curled enticingly. Hermione was such a little temptress. The red head raised an eyebrow, her hand skimming the waistband of Hermione's underwear. Hermione whimpered in plea. Ginny's smirk never wavered. She teased the brunette relentlessly, one hand temptingly close to her crotch the other dancing over the tender skin of her back and reaching the clasp of her bra.

"Ginny…" she moaned out huskily. Her eyes beseeching. Ginny took in the brunette's flushed features. The alluring look of clouded hazel eyes, pink tinged cheeks and slightly parted ruby lips taunted her. The image added to the wet need between her thighs. The red heads breathing became heavier. How just an image could make Ginny this hot, this wanting, this needy, baffled her.

The younger woman leaned down, her hot breathe against Hermione's ear. She licked the older woman's ear lobe, her hand unclasping Hermione's bra. She nibbled at the sensitive flesh, her hand pulling the bra off of the other woman and cupping a well rounded breast immediately afterwards. Ginny let Hermione's ear free. She moaned into the brunette's ear, her voice came out throaty and low. "You make me so hot."

Hermione's eyelid fluttered closed at the sultry voice in her ear, her ear stinging euphorically. The younger woman never stopped her teasing fingers that still hadn't stopped toying around. It was enough to drive her mad. It was enough to drive her over the edge. But, no. Ginny wouldn't let her. Ginny knew which buttons to push, where to push them and how far and long Hermione would go. And Ginny especially liked to tease.

"Ginny… please…" she breathed, wanting those slim fingers deep inside of her.

Ginny sucked lightly at Hermione's neck receiving a deep moan accompanied by a slight whimper. She licked her way up the brunette's neck, leaving a trail of wet heat. Hermione moaned again. Louder, deeper. And Ginny finally gave into her lover's plea.

Hermione gasped at the abrupt feel of slim fingers inside of her. Within minutes her body quaked. Her orgasm ran through her slowly. Taking her to heaven and back. She opened blurry hazel eyes only to meet a barrage of light…

The brunette uttered on name. "…Ron."

"Hermione." Ginny pulled back quickly. That wasn't her voice. The younger woman was sure her voice wasn't that deep. Wasn't that detached. Didn't have that certain boyish shock to it. But she knew whose did. She knew whose voice it was.

She swiveled around, remaining calm. Collected. Not as surprised and scared as she was. Not as… grateful. She shouldn't have liked that she was caught screwing her brother's girlfriend. Ginny shouldn't have liked that knowing, pained look in her brother's eyes. But… that didn't stop her from wanting to be caught. Wanting him to finally get a clue. Wanting Hermione to have to finally choose.

"Ron I-"

The younger Weasely was met with the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Her brother's hand against her cheek. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep jagged breath, not turning her face from the position her face had been slapped into. The girl refused the tears that wanted to be shed. She opened her blue eyes, her gaze immediately landing on Hermione's face, staring into Hermione's eyes.

Ginny looked away, looked back to her brother. The red haired boy looked at his hand, dumbfounded. Like he didn't know what he'd just done. He regretted what he'd just done. Understanding captured his thoughts again and he turned to Hermione, his light blue eyes on the brink of tears.

"How… how could you?" Ron's voice was weak. Pure emotion. Pure anger, grief, confusion, hurt and jealousy. His sister? He thought bitterly. "My sister! My own fucking sister!"

The red head looked to his younger sibling. Betrayal marring his features. Tears falling from his eyes. "Ginny… she's my girlfriend. I love her. You… I showed you the ring… and you're screwing her!"

"Ron. I didn't mean-"

"You didn't what! You didn't mean to fuck her!" He began to pace, the palm of his hand rubbing frivolously against his forehead. "Damn it." He stopped, looking directly into Hermione's eyes. "Why? Just tell me that. Why?"

"I…" Hermione was frozen. Unsure if this was real or just some horrible nightmare. Hoping she was still in her bed, sleeping. Both Weasely's were looking at her. She shifted her gaze from one to the other before finally turning away from both, speechless.

Ron stared wordlessly at the woman he loved. He stared until he couldn't take the silence anymore. He turned towards the door, a pale hand landed on the rusty brass knob. "Just… don't talk to me for a while."

Ginny held her breath. Wishing he wouldn't say what he probably would. Wishing he would say it. Just so she wouldn't have to deal with anything. A smothering feeling of guilt churned in the pit of her stomach.

"Both of you." His voice was a chocked whisper but it echoed clearly in the empty room. He slammed the door shut. The room was dark again. Completely dark.

How was it that Hermione always had her in the dark? Always kissed her, touched her, fucked her. Only in the dark. She inwardly laughed. A bitter laugh. And Ron was always in the light. Hermione let her affection for Ron out in the open. Ginny suddenly felt dirty. Dirty and used. She looked around the dark room, finding her shirt quickly she put it on and grabbed the handle of the door. She felt like she should say something. That she shouldn't leave Hermione alone. But she didn't, couldn't trust herself. She was afraid she'd say something she'd regret. So, she just left.

Hermione blinked. They were both gone now. Her legs seemed to give out beneath her, the tears in her eyes becoming too much to control. Hermione fell to the floor; her back slummed against the wall and her head in her hands. She fell to the floor and began to cry.

* * *

Author's Note:

Was that an ending or not? I'm not sure. It would be pretty cruel to leave the ending all depressing wouldn't it? Hm… I dunno. TBC maybe. I think so. I can't stand seemingly unfinished, unhappy endings. Well… I'll go work on another fic now.


	3. Cold

Debauchery

**Cold**

Disclaimer: Uh… I'm sure you all know who owns Harry Potter. And it's not me. All rights reserved for J.K. Rowling.

Warning: Femme Slash. Um… that's it really.

Thanks:

Lady Felton1: Ooo... I just saw Tom Felton on this really old British mystery show. He was so cute! Hehe. Ouch is righto. Thanks. :)

Kazutaka Muraki: Wow. Thank you very much. I have talent. In your face mom! You wanna know my secret:whispers: ...I'm not telling. Ha! Nope, I'm just a deprived person. That's it.

And thanks to everyone else who read.

Alright… I'm going to try something new here. I think its second person POV. I'm not sure. Here goes…

* * *

:Hermione:

You migrate towards Harry and Ron the next morning. Ron makes a quick excuse to leave without throwing an acknowledgement at you. Harry just looks at you blankly, trying to smile but failing. You know he knows. What did you expect? You surely didn't think Ron wouldn't tell Harry. He looks at his shoes awkwardly and you make an excuse to leave too. The tension and loss of topic gets to you.

It's when you spot a familiar mane of golden red hair that you remember Ginny. Ginny was there too. Ginny took a slap to the face. Would Ginny even consider talking to you after what happened? The red head hadn't said anything. Hadn't made a painfully clear statement telling you to stay away. But she hadn't really said much of anything.

You watch her. Frozen. You can't take that chance. The chance that there will be a scene. You don't want anyone to know your shame. That you'd bedded two Weasely's. You don't want to cause any more pain so you keep to yourself. You're alone and you wonder how this happened. How you could be so stupid. How you could fall in love with both of them. And especially… who could… _would_ you choose.

Choosing one over the other wouldn't be simple. It wouldn't be easy. Things weren't easy. You barely touch the plate in front of you. If you chose Ron, Ginny will be hurt. If you chose Ginny, Ron will be hurt. Each weighed option ends in misery. As the old saying goes… you're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't. You hate that saying now. You wish it weren't so fucking true. You wish you could go back. You wish none of this had ever happened.

You take the last wish back. You liked that it happened. You liked it and you feel guilty. It was a guilty pleasure. You couldn't help yourself. They were both just… _there_. They were both so willing both so wanting, so in _love _with you. And you. You selfish bitch. You wanted both. You were greedy and now look what happened.

Ron was always so nice, so handsome, so perfect and protective. You feel so safe with him. You just feel so safe. It's chaste with Ron. When you're together. When he's touching you, when he's holding you and when you make love. Its sweet, caring. Ron is the reasonable choice and you are reasonable. You've always been reasonable. Then the choice is made… you'll choose Ron.

But… Ginny. You can't get her out of your mind. You can't make her eyes just vanish from your dreams, from your memories, from your every waking moment. Ginny was… Ginny. Always provocative, deep, intelligent and beautiful. Inside and out. When you were with Ginny it was heat and passion. Nothing else seemed to exist. Ginny is the dangerous choice. The unreasonable one.

So why does it feel as if you should choose her? Your brain tells you Ron. Your unreliable heart can't make a decision. And something else just tells you Ginny. Why? You know who you'll choose. You know who because it's easier. And every particle in your being says who to choose, says everything will be fine if you make that choice. And you will. You'll choose.

…Soon.

* * *

:Ginny: 

I can see her. Sitting there. I can see her out of the corner of my eye. Watching me yet not focusing on me. She's thinking. And I know exactly what about. I want to go over there and tell her to pick me. I want to tell her I'm the one she should be with. But I know she has to make the decision on her own. When she chooses it has to be her choice. There can't be a poke or prod from me or my brother. We can't choose for her.

I know all this. But still I'm looking at her. Looking into her eyes. Searching. Telling. Willing. She doesn't look away. She doesn't meet my gaze directly either. How did this happen? How did we get caught? How could I betray my brother? I feel like shit. She looks away. Ashamed. I wish I were ashamed. But I'm not. Guilty, yes. Ashamed, never.

The brunette stands, gathering her things and walking out of the great hall. I follow. I always follow. Trying to catch up, I notice she's heading towards Griffyndor tower. I reach out and grab her arm. She freezes and I wonder what am I doing exactly. Why did I follow her? What will I say?

She turns around slowly. Hazel eyes meet my own for a second before she looks away. Her voice is nervous, unsure. "Morning Ginny."

I let go of her arm, my hand moving to her chin. Turning her face towards mine I attempt to get her to look me in the eyes. My hand cups her cheek, its soft and warm. I'm being drawn in. I want to kiss her so much its painful. I just want her lips on mine. I want to feel and touch and forget about everything else. Even just for a minute or two. Just forget.

She wants it too. I can see it in her eyes. She wants me just as badly as I want her. But she's reluctant. She won't take the initiative. My thumb rolls over the soft skin of her cheek gently. I move my hand to the back of her neck slowly. She doesn't resist. I inch closer. I'm moving so slowly or at least it feels that way. It feels as if I'd shatter the moment with one swift movement. Like all hope would be lost. I'm so close I can feel the warmth of her breath against mine. Her eyes are closed now, waiting.

"Hermione. There you are. I've been looking for you." My brother interrupts. His voice is cheerful. I thought he wanted us to stay away from him.

I don't turn to acknowledge him. I don't want to and I don't know if I can even look him in the eyes. He saw what I was about to do. He saw another hint of my betrayl. He saw me almost kiss her. I know he did. I don't want to see the hurt in his eyes. And I don't want him to see the triumph covered guilt in mine. So I don't turn around. I don't acknowledge him.

"Ron!" Hermione seems to squeak, jumping a little. I can feel the absence of soft flesh against the palm of my hand. Delicate brown curls slip through my fingers. The moment is ruined.

"I need to talk to you," I can feel his eyes cutting into the back of my head. "In private."

If that hatred in his voice is any indication. He's mad at me. Utterly pissed. I know it. More angry than ever before. How can I tell? He's my brother I think I'd know. If he were yelling and thrashing about, throwing some sort of fit I'd know things would be okay later. That he'd forgive me. But he's not throwing a fit; he's not loud and obnoxious. He's bitter and cold. Like tea when you leave it out for too long. This is one of those times he won't forgive me. At least, not for a very long time. And that shameful guilt in the pit of my stomach returns.

I feel dirty again. I feel used again. I feel like a fucking whore. The burning in my throat returns. I can't deal with this. I can't handle this. I need to go. I need to feel it. To feel the metal against my wrist. Just to let all the guilt, shame and dirtiness bleed out. Watch it seep out of my skin and onto the floor. Watch it dry up and stain. I try to swallow the lump in my throat but find not an ounce of moister in my mouth. It all seems to be pushing at the back of my eyeballs. Wanting to be released as tears. I won't let it.

"I was just leaving." I manage to hiss out as I brush past my brother's shoulder.

My strides are purposeful and quick. I get to my dorm quickly and shut the drapes around me. I just take a second to look at the knife. The cold sharp metal in the palm of my hand. It shows my reflection. It shows this girl staring back at me in awe, tears running down her pale cheeks. Is that me? There's no blood on this knife. Its all been washed clean. All the grime, washed away.

When the knife penetrates my skin, I whimper. It hurts. But I want it to hurt. I want to cut this guilt out. I want to make myself clean. I watch the blood ooze from my self inflicted wound and I smile. I smile and then I cry. There's a lot of blood. More than I've ever lost before.

* * *

:Ron: 

He saw them looking at each other. Saw Hermione walk out and he saw his sister follow. Just like last night. Were they still screwing behind his back? How many times had he seen them leave closely after one another and thought nothing of it? How many times had he over heard Ginny being referred to as a dyke and clobbered countless others? How could he be so fucking blind?

It was right there in front of him the whole time. All the clues. He just never put the pieces to the puzzle together. He thought things like this only happened in bad muggle movies. He thought it wasn't real. He denied it and now it was real. His baby sister and his girlfriend. His flesh and blood with his lust and love. How could he choose between his sister and the woman he was completely in love with? Hermione wasn't the only one who had to make a choice. He had a choice to make and so did Ginny. And bloody hell it wouldn't be easy.

Ron stood from his seat and followed the two women. He could tell by the way they followed one another. By the way they anticipated each other's movements. They'd done this countless times before. Something akin to hurt rose in the pit of his stomach but it was quickly smothered by bubbling jealousy.

'_How could she?'_

But which 'she' did he mean? Who was he really so bloody pissed at? Hermione or Ginny? It was confusing, being mad at someone and you didn't know who. They stopped. He stopped and hid behind a statue. He watched them closely. Hermione looked away from the younger girl. Ginny's hand moved to her chin. Ron's eyes widened, was she going to snog her? In plain view? Ginny's hand moved to Hermione's cheek. The act was so gentle so caring. He couldn't take it. He walked quickly towards them.

He stopped dead in his tracks. She was going to snog her. Hermione's eyes were closed. Hermione knew what Ginny was about to do. Ginny was moving steadily closer. Now words were exchanged and yet, it seemed as if there were. As if Ginny was trying to say something. Trying to tell Hermione without the use of words.

Ron didn't want to see what would happen next. "Hermione. There you are. I've been looking for you."

He saw his sister's frozen, rigid stance. And he was mad again. Angry at Ginny because Ginny had to know better. Angry with Hermione because he thought she'd loved him, she'd known better. Ginny was the one that seduced Hermione. Or had Hermione seduced Ginny? He had no idea and it was starting to get to him. Ginny was the one that wanted Hermione. Hermione wanted Ginny. They wanted each other and he wanted her. He wanted to keep her away from his sister. He wanted to keep his sister away from her. He didn't know what he wanted.

"Ron!"

What to say to Hermione once alone? He wondered. "I need to talk to you," his tone grew serious, "In private."

Yes, in private. He didn't want Ginny to hear what he would say. He was going to keep Hermione away from her. Keep her away from Hermione. Then the problem would be solved, he told himself reassuringly. Then everything would just settle after a while. Everything would be okay. Yes, that was it. He ignored his younger sibling as she brushed pass him coldly. He would talk to her later. He would tell her what he was about to tell Hermione later.

Once he was sure the younger Weasely was out of hearing range he spoke sternly, "I want you to stay away from Ginny."

"What?" Hermione asked taken aback. That wasn't what she thought he would say. "Ron listen-"

"No, 'Mione. You listen. I want _you _to stay away from_ my_ sister. End of story. No buts. Just leave Ginny alone."

"Ron-" The girl pleaded but was yet again interrupted.

Ron took a deep calming, frustrated breath. "Hermione, make this easy for us all. Just… stay away."

* * *

Author's Note: 

Sorry it's not very long. I have to go to sleep early so that I wake up early to get my things packed for this parade I have to go to. Hehe. It's at Disneyland. I get to hold the banner. Yeppo. I'm special. Heh. Anyways… I thought I should continue. Though, the last chapter was a nice depressing ending, no? Hehe. I'll spit out a new chapter fast as I can. C Ya Soon:)


	4. Distant

Debauchery

**Distance**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Shoujo ai.

Thanks:

Bi-Chick, Lady Felton1, Kazutaka Muraki

**Author's Note:** Yay! I'm ba-ack! Woohoo. Yep. Summer is coming up soon and I have a bit more time. Hehe. Well, I should do this big ass Notebook Portfolio thing but… meh. I'm sure I'll do fine. This is long enough. Story time!

000

The newly inflicted slash across my arm begins to sting. The unpredicted barrage of pain makes me grimace and drop a vile of dark potion. A curse slips from my mouth before I can think.

"Ms. Weasely, please remember that we are to be extremely _careful _with our potions." Snape snarls cynically. "Fifty points from Griffyndor."

I nod. I barely understand what the bloody bastard just said, and I could care less. I pick up my wand and clean up the bubbling mess. I guess I'll have to start from scratch. Finding the correct ingredients my mind wanders as I begin to measure the accurate amount of some thing or other. Someone grabs my arm lightly. The slight pressure makes me flinch. "Gin, you're bleeding."

I look at the small trickle of blood without surprise. Or shock. Or awe. It's just a cut. "Must've happened when I dropped the vile."

"Ms. Weasely. Ms. Smith. Refrain from mindless chitchat. You both have a potion to remake. I suggest you do so."

"But professor-"

"Yes." His beady black eyes penetrate the short blonde, "Ms. Smith."

The blonde seems to look away frantically, "Ginny, she, er… she got hurt. The potion…"

"I think Ms. Weasely is capable of speech."

I watch this little control spat Snape is having so much fun with. It's disgusting yet oddly intriguing. To have that sort of power over someone, to make them cower in your wake. To have control over the situation. It was an appealing thing.

His glare shifts to me.

000

There was a mild sting circulating throughout her arm. Instead of going to the infirmary as Snape had instructed, Ginny made her way towards the nearest lavatories. There was a small tapping sound coming from behind her. She turned… nothing there. But the impending feeling of someone following her kept her cautious.

The red head opened the door slowly, making sure there wasn't another person using the lavatories, before she took out her wand and put a locking charm on the door. Assuring her some much needed alone time.

For a moment Ginny just stood staring into the mirror. Into the all too clear image of a gaunt young woman. Into the hollow eyes of a complete stranger. She pinned every imperfection, every small obscurity that made her want to look away from the frowning image. Her hand gained a life of its own, moving to her chin and fingering the almost invisible scar there. Every imperfection had a story behind it. A memory. A truth and a lie. Her fingers moved lightly across her all too pale skin, to the small freckles across her cheeks.

No matter how much she tried to recognize this almost womanly figure in the mirror she couldn't. The eyes of the young woman before her seemed a bit too dull; there was a saddening wisdom about them. Her cheeks were to thin, too sharp and edgy to be that of a child. The edges of her lips seemed to sink with the weight of too many lies.

It wasn't until a sharp nail made its way up along the side of her thigh did she notice the person standing behind her. Blue eyes turned bitter and the corners of her mouth seemed to fall even deeper. Still, she didn't bother to slap the intruder's hand away. The sharp scratching of the nail continued to send pleasurably unpleasant tingles up and down along her side.

"What do you want?" The red head kept her eyes on the mirror, watching the intruder's smirking green eyes.

There were no words just the movement of the hand against her thigh moving higher, un-tucking her shirt, slipping beneath the thin worn out fabric. Still she didn't move, didn't look away from those laughing eyes. Those eyes that think they own her. And maybe they do, maybe she's just a puppet. Maybe she _is_ just a puppet again.

"Don't." Her voice was just a whisper. Just a far away cry.

The hand moved slowly over the soft flesh of her stomach. Rubbing smooth circles against the red head's taunt stomach. The eyes in the mirror never took their gaze away; they burned into her, burned through her. Ginny didn't want to look away, did't want to lose the small spat for control. But she knew she was losing, she knew she'd lose. Those menacing green eyes knew she'd lose. She always had.

Lips pressed lightly against her now bare shoulder. The eyes never left her own. She tried to think but her mind was too clouded, to twisted and manipulated by the jumping nerves of her overly sensitive body.

The alluring eyes trapped her, entranced her, drew her even further into the clouded abyss. Using a strong amount of pleasure and control. Making her mind go from extremely clear to a foggy scattered mist. Making her body twitch, her breathing shallow, her voice lost. Control lost.

Dull blue eyes shifted. Ginny stared at the dry trickle of blood on her arm. She couldn't bear to look back at those laughing eyes. The sound of a raspy laugh and the feel of warm sweet smelling breath against her neck was enough.

000

Author's Note: Holy crap. That's pretty short but… meh. Whatever. I need to go work on my portfolio for reals now. Haha.


	5. Greed

Debauchery

**Greed**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Femmslash.

Thanks:

Hoshi-chan1: Uh... ain't that what I'm doing? Thanks. :)

ZelzSaihitei: Hehe. Well, I try. I try. No really... I do. -- Just messing. Yep. I wish the words flew from my mouth as well as they flew through my hands. Yes. It sucks sometimes. I dunno whent the end will be out. Hopefully soon. -

Angulus Letum: Heart wrenching? Whoa. Thanks. :)

000

The pestering thoughts wouldn't cease. Wouldn't leave her be. Let her alone. They just refused to be rid of so easily. She felt banished. Banished from the only place she belonged. It seemed as though she was no longer one third of the "golden trio". When she looked back, back at their old conquest, it seemed so long ago. Like a long forgotten memory. One that occurred unprohibitedly, while her defenses were down and it seemed as though her mind would actually achieve a bit of peace. But memory, guilt and shame wouldn't let her forget her wretched ties.

Everything around her seemed to move slower than time. The students that brushed past her were gone before she could react properly. She was one person standing in front of a fast moving storm. Everything went by her too fast for comprehension. That was one of the many reasons why she'd only found out just now about the rumors. Rumors that circled like a cloud of dust around her, around Ron, Ginny, even Harry.

…And Pansy Parkinson.

It was just a small whispered exchange between two third years as she passed by them in the hall. Just a few traded words. Excited giggles and disgusted remarks.

"Did you hear about that Griffyndor and…"

"I know!

"…Pansy Parkinson. A Slytherin!"

"I heard they were caught in the…"

"…Gross."

"Ew… who was the Griffyndor?"

"You'll never believe it…"

"Try me."

"…Ginny Weasely."

It was then that the only sound Hermione could hear was the rushing of blood pounding in her ears. She didn't know what she felt. Anger, jealousy, sorrow. There were just too many swirling thoughts. Too many emotions to just pinpoint one. Ginny and Pansy. Pansy Parkinson.

The two names echoed in her mind. Haunting her. They wailed relentlessly, became whispered gasps and lengthy moans. She could see them together. Eyes closed, bodies writhing in ecstasy. Pansy moaning and gasping at the wonderful things Ginny did with that tongue of hers. The wonderful things she did with her hands and her lips. Hermione dropped her books and headed straight for the dormitories. She didn't know what she was doing, just that she was running. She couldn't figure out what would possess her to do so. Why she would drop everything and just run.

The brunette bounded up the staircase towards the Griffyndor common room. She hadn't felt the sting of unshed tears in her eyes, or the way her breath rattled when she exhaled. She hadn't felt the burn of exhaustion on her cheeks. All she'd felt was the immense sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Hermione especially didn't notice the person walking down the staircase. Instead, she bumped into the tall figure and fell right on her backside. The hazel eyed woman sat there, partly stunned and mostly uncaring. She sat looking down at the ground and finally letting the tears fall. Why couldn't it be easy? Why couldn't she just choose?

"…Why?"

000

Her tone was dejected, lost, confused… drained. How was I to answer that question? She must've heard by now, with all the rumors circulating. She must've heard about…

I couldn't think. Her eyes looked so dull, so lifeless. I just couldn't think or focus or even breath. Everything was gone and all she had to do was look at me with those eyes. With those questioning eyes that wanted to know why. Those eyes that bore into me and demanded honesty. I couldn't take it. I felt scrutinized. Ostracized. Analyzed. What was she thinking? What did she want?

I felt my mouth move, words tumbled out slowly, cynically. "Nice to see you around Hermione."

It seemed as though she'd snapped out of a daze. Like she saw me for the first time. And she had that look, the 'Please forgive me' look. I couldn't. I just had to look away. I wouldn't be used again. I wouldn't fall as easily. I didn't want to. Yet… I wanted so badly to drop down onto the ground next to her and hold her. Just hold her until I felt I had to let go. Which would probably have been never.

"Ginny?"

She sounded so lost and her eyes… those hazel eyes, with flecks of golden cinnamon. They held me there, enticed me, entranced me. Made me take a step closer. Made my senses lessen. My defenses drop. She made me want her with a simple look. A simple pleading look. After everything. Everything. How could I have been doing that? How could I have been drawn in again? How could she want me? How could she?

"How could you?" The strained whimper didn't come from me. It didn't. I wish it didn't. My throat was clogged and I wanted to cry. I wanted to bawl and thrash about. But I couldn't. I couldn't.

She was still sitting on the ground. Her eyes stared at me. Perplexed. Big hazel eyes penetrated me. Watched my every expression. Every tiny movement. She seemed awed, mesmerized yet so skeptical. So unsure and unaware. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run away. To touch her, kiss her. To do _something_.

"Hermione…" I sunk down to my knees. I was getting to close. I had to stop. Stop before I was too close. Before I was too lost. Too drawn in. But I couldn't. My mind told me no. It told me to pull away, break away before something happened. But my body longed for those hands, for those lips and teeth and that skin. My body lusted for it. Desired it. And it made my mind so clouded by that want that I found my lips a mere centimeter from hers, my eyes half lidded and soft breath tickling my skin. All she needed to do was close that small gap and I would be lost. Gone.

Her lips moved closer but she pulled back just slightly. It was teasing. She was teasing. We were so close I could feel the heat emitting off of her. It tickled my senses. Made my lips itch to be pressed to hers. It made my blood boil and the ache in my bones intensify. I wanted it so badly just to… just to…

Before I could think, before I could swallow half a breath, her lips were on mine. Her hands in my hair, all over my body. Touching me everywhere and leaving a trail of tingles everywhere. It was so pleasurably unbearable. It'd been so long since I kissed her. It felt like an eternity. Her tongue lashed out, hot and wet and pushing into my all too inviting mouth. She was moving so fast. Her lips, tongue, hands were searing hot against me. They burned. Oh, they burned.

I moved so slowly. Savoring everything. I ran my palms up and down her back, my hands slid through her hair, moved up along her thighs and around her slim waist. I can't remember how long it was until I opened my eyes. Opened them and found her staring back at me. Her cherry tinted lips moved as if to speak but not a sound was made. She was going to tell me something. And I knew it wouldn't be good. I'd hoped the games would stop. That she'd figure out what she wanted. I knew what I wanted. I always knew. And she knew just as well. I wanted her.

"Ginny…" her eyes bore her soul. "I'm sorry."

She stood up slowly. Like she didn't want to leave. I didn't want her to leave either. I didn't want her gone again. After she'd trapped me again. I didn't want her gone. She was going to run. I could see it in her eyes. She was going to run and I could do nothing about it. She wouldn't choose me.

I looked away from her. I couldn't stand to keep her gaze. I couldn't stand to have those eyes looking into me. The malice in my voice made me wince. "What for? It was just a bit of fun. That's what you said in the beginning right?"

I could tell from the way she stood frozen for an instant of a second. I hurt her. It made me feel better… to make her hurt. "R-Right. Just a bit of fun."

My feet took their own objective and I walked up right next to her. My shoulder almost touching hers. I could feel that radiating heat again; hear the soft sigh in her breathing. I kept walking around her until I was behind her. My lips barely touched her ear. My hand moved to her stomach, around her waist. I just stood like that for a while, letting my breath tease the sensitive nerves in her ear.

"Anytime you feel like having a bit of fun again…" I nibbled lightly on her earlobe and smiled at the small groan she'd made. I rasped low into her ear, "Don't be ashamed to come and play."

000

He sneered angrily. His face was beet red. Right up to the roots on the top of his head. His usually smiling light blue eyes became cloudy and dull. He'd seen it all. Every movement. Every action. And the meanings underlining those despicable actions. Those betraying movements. He couldn't believe they'd go behind his back again. That Hermione, being one of his closest friends and the only woman he'd ever loved, would go against his simple request.

The scene before him was like a chessboard. Every action had a reaction. He watched closely how they'd acted and reacted towards one another. Hermione had dropped her books and went running up the stairs. And he'd followed.

She ran and bumped into Ginny. The staircase moved. He could see them but they couldn't see him.

Hermione sat there; seemingly unaware of who she'd bumped into. And then Ginny went to see if Hermione was okay and they just stared. For the longest time. They just stared at each other. And then… then they just clashed. Pressed as hard as they could to each other. Lips, bodies, everything. All melting into one. The tension was so blatantly obvious. Even a blind man could see it.

They pulled apart and stared again. Differently. It was different than before. Like they'd found something they missed. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. The bubbling rage and jealousy.

The next move was Hermione's. Hermione got up and began to walk away. But then Ginny… Ginny did that _thing_. Ginny did things to her that he'd never done before. Maybe that was why she didn't want him. Maybe that was why…

"Ron."

The voice was calm. It made him feel guilty. Ashamed. Of what he'd been thinking, of the fact that he'd been watching something private. Something he wasn't supposed to watch. Something forbidden.

The smear of shame seeped across his cheeks in a color of red deeper than before. Emerald eyes stared him down. Knew what he was thinking. Knew what he'd been thinking. The person took a step closer and the reflection of light glinting off of blinding lenses made him cower.

"I was just…" He trailed off.

"I know what you were doing."

Ron looked at the man before him incredulously. "Spying on me?"

"No." He frowned. "Stopping you from doing something incredibly stupid."

"And what might that be?"

Emerald eyes glared. "Can't you just wake up Ron? You're making it harder than it's supposed to be. Just let her go."

"I have!"

"No you haven't."

The taller man gritted his teeth. "I have too. I asked her nicely Harry. I asked her to keep away from my sister. She's the one who's making everything so compli-"

The raven haired man took a threatening step closer, "Then answer me this Ron… why are you here?"

"I don't know what you're getting at."

"You know damn well," Harry's temper was running short. He couldn't take it anymore. They were supposed to be friends. They were supposed to stick by one another. They were supposed to be his family. And they were falling apart. "If you'd really let her go. If you'd really loved her, if you really _love _her… you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be so bothered by what they're doing."

"She's my sister Harry. She can't-"

"Just shut up! You- you're just so fucking dense sometimes. I can't stand it Ron. It doesn't matter! I'm sure you've heard the rumors. The one's about your sister and Parkinson! Do you do anything about that! Do you even give a shit!"

"I just-"

"No Ron. Listen. You don't care as much as you say you do. If you really did care, you'd be worried about Ginny and Parkinson rather than Ginny and Hermione. You truly are a selfish git."

The raven haired boy shook his head sorrowfully. He looked at Ron with a sort of weakness. Vulnerability. "Stop acting like a jealous ex and act like a real brother. Act like a real friend Ron."

Taken aback by all the swirling emotions in his best friend's voice, he stood there motionlessly. Apprehensiveness written plain across his face. He didn't know what to say. What to do. Whether to believe the complicated instructions of his heart or the greedy exhibitions of his mind. Or even the hurt in his soul. He did not know what to do next. So there he stood. Shocked by his friend's blunt vulnerability. Hurt by his sister and love's display. And betrayed by his own emotions.

He was lost. And he didn't know how to find his way back home.

000

Author's Note:

Hehe. So yeah. I dunno. I guess I like it all complicated and crap. Yep. Makes it fun as hell to write. .

Hope you guys loved it. And if you love it, like it or even hate it… leave me a god damn review. I was sad when I only saw like… 3 or 4. I was like… Wha? Is it really that bad? I dunno. I need attention. A lot of attention. Shower me with it. ;)

Have fun kids!


	6. Jealousy

Debauchery

**Jealously**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Femme slash.

Thanks:

Jezebel Malice: I really, really love your stuff. :) Thanks for the review. Pain is good.

Hybrid Mutant: Cool. I guess it's a little poetic. Yep. Thanks.

Angulus Letum: Yes. Parkinson. I couldn't think of anyone else and I didn't want to make up a character. I'm not too great at that. Heh.

Lady Felton1: I was thinking more of a sixteen but fourteen is pretty good. :) Thanks.

Zelz Saihitei: You just reminded me of food. Because I haven't eaten lunch yet and yes. I want lunch now. Haha. Thanks for the review.

Hoshi-chan1: That was a great shower. Hehe. I feel so refreshed. :)

Thanks to dlm2780, Emily and everyone else who read.

Author's Note: I'm bored. Yesterday my friend and me were so bored we started playing _Put the Coins in My Pocket_. And she couldn't put the dime in my pocket so she lost and I won. Which is cool because… I fucking won! Good times… Hehe. Yes. Summer. Yeah. My brain tickles. La la la. :)

000

"Ginny please. Just listen to me. Pansy is-"

"Sod off Ron." She cut him off mid speech. "I don't need you butting into my business right now! Merlin knows the whole god damn school already is!"

Ginny turned to leave but the older Weasely caught her by the elbow. "That's just it Gin. There _are_ rumors. People have been saying things."

"Tell me something I don't know." Her tone surprised Ron. It was scowling, threatening, "Why don't you just stay out of it this time Ron."

He flinched at the statement. "What is that suppose to mean?"

She whirled around, her eyes surprisingly red from tears, her skin oddly pale and the look in her eyes strained. The perception of hurt and the depth of sorrow guilt and grief in blue eyes that slightly mirrored his own made him want to reach out to her. Reach out and hug her, make her feel better, take the dullness from her gaze and make that child like glint in his little sister's eyes come back. It was like he was seeing her for the first time. The first time in a very long while. And she looked terrible.

"It means, my 'oh so wonderful' brother, stay out of my life!" Ginny started to walk away again. The younger Weasely only made it a few steps before Ron was in front of her. Stopping her. Forcing the tears out from behind her tired eyelids.

"Ginny…" She was crying. She was crying and he had no idea what to do. Didn't know how, what to do, to make her stop. Make her calm down. Stop her from crying. Comfort her.

Ginny buried her face in his chest. She was losing control again. It seemed as if she could barely control her surroundings lately. She felt so… weak. She could smell the lingering traces of home on Ron's sweater. The scent of her mother's various home cooked meals, of the Weasely living room and especially her own bed. Where none of this was happening. Where she could be sleeping, dreaming. Drowning in the innocence of her dreams.

The blue eyed man embraced the girl who had somehow become a young woman right before his blinded eyes. He ran a hand limply through her hair, trying his best to console her. The younger Weasely sobbed softly against his chest, drenching the latest sweater his mother made for him. He whispered softly against her hair.

"What've I done?"

000

Slowly, smoked trickled out from between her lips. Hermione sat in the astronomy tower, thinking. The moon was full, cold and alluring. The brilliant silver light caused eerie shadows to play across her face. She just sat. Staring. Wondering. Thinking, then thinking about why she thought so much and stumbling upon the same answer.

Ginny. Pansy. Pansy and Ginny, Ginny and Pansy. Why couldn't she just rid herself of those haunting thoughts? Rid herself of the conflicting emotions. The bubbling jealousy and the searing burn of want and desire. Why did everything have to be so… so complicated. The brunette let out a slow frustrated sigh, the cigarette smoke escaped, swirling about and making her nostrils flare. She let the toxins in her system calm her buzzing nerves.

All of her frustrations boiled down to one thing. One question. What did she want? She continuously asked her self over and over. The same bloody question. She had no answer. No response. She ran her fingers lifelessly through her hair. She was getting a headache. She could feel the low pulsing throb in her temple.

Small scenes flipped through her head. Ginny's hands gripping Pansy's thighs. Lips pressed tightly together. Tongues battling. Pansy's hands roaming, all over Ginny's slim form. Touching. Wanting. Having. It made her stomach churn. Made the aching spot in between her thighs throb with desire.

Footsteps sounded from behind the tower entrance. Hermione quickly extinguished the burning tip of her cigarette and sunk further into the shadows. She watched as two figures stumbled into the dimly lit room. She could barely make out the silhouettes of two women. They were pressed together. Hard.

Hermione blinked. When she opened her eyes again the smaller of the two was pressed tightly up against the cold stonewall. Delicate hands held firmly above her head. Her breathing hitched. Hermione's eyes widened just a bit, taking in the sight before her. Watching, wanting. Quietly yearning.

The brunette was contemplating what to do next. Should she step from the shadows and confront the pair? Would she stay hidden? Watch this dark deed unfold? Let it enfold her. Capture her. Let the lust in her eyes shine, the need intensify and the want envelope her. Make her skin pleasantly uncomfortable; make her fingers itch to touch, to feel the burn of pulsing flesh beneath her palms. The thought exited the hazel-eyed woman.

Would every moan, every gasp, every whispered name serve to remind her? To make her want to regret, all the while knowing she couldn't. She wouldn't regret anything. Even if the small sounds of carnal pleasure suffocated her, drowned her in memories and dreams she couldn't rid herself of.

She found her eyes glued to the couple. To their rocking movements and jagged breathes. She bit her nail nervously, contemplating. One of the women moaned, Hermione's nails dug sharply into the palm of her hand. She bit her lip. That moan amazed her. She wanted more. She wanted Ginny.

Her feet took their own objective, taking a small cautious step towards the exit. She needed to get away from all of it. She needed more time. She didn't want… she didn't. She didn't know what she wanted.

Dull blue eyes stared into her core. Made her knees go weak and her body yearn. Hermione stared back. Perplexed, frozen. Wanting to scream, wanting to cry. Wishing she had the guts to walk away, to pretend those penetrating blue eyes weren't lost in her own.

000

Ginny moaned raspily. She couldn't stop. Couldn't bite back the pleasure overtaking her senses or the deep stab of guilt eating at her insides. She felt as if she wasn't a part of the whole ordeal. As if she was just watching, just gazing through a telescope. She could feel Pansy's teeth nipping roughly at her neck; feel the burn of fingers tempting her heated flesh. But she felt as if she weren't there, as if it were all a dream. A surreal image her guilty mind provided.

The older girl bit roughly at her collarbone, eliciting a sharp gasp. Ginny's eyes remained open, staring dully into the darkness. She tried to fight the urge to slip away just once more. The evening hadn't gone according to plan, as she would've liked. The red head's intentions were simple, honest. She wanted it over with. She wanted to quell the shame that berated her tired mind. She wanted to break free. She wanted it to be over. But it was never over. The greed-eyed Slytherin just began to do those things. Began to take control. And she couldn't resist the temptation, the aching want, when it presented itself. She couldn't break free.

"Stop…" The hoarse whisper was a plea. Ginny couldn't take it anymore. She wanted it to end.

Lips crashed against her own, stifling her pleas. She felt dirty. And disgusted. She wanted to cry. She was crying. Through blurry eyes she could make out Hermione's haunting form. She didn't know if it was real. If it was just an image her guilty mind created or some evil hallucination the alcohol in her system provoked. She just wanted it to end.

Hips thrusted roughly into her center. The tears fell heavily. She wished the image away. Ginny couldn't stand those haunting, judging hazel eyes. She willed them to look away, turn away. Discard her as they had many times before. Ginny found her palms against Pansy's shoulders, trying to push the other woman away.

"Stop." The red head's struggle was weak. The lack of sleep beginning to weigh her down. Fatigue catching up to her.

000

Hermione heard the barely breathed whisper. The small plea for the older girl to stop. The brunette wanted to scream. Wanted to walk over to that girl she couldn't resist, wanted those blue eyes back on her. But her dead limps provided no movement. Thoughts ran through her, memories challenged her. Heartache controlled her. Jealousy stirred within her, threatening to erupt.

The older Griffyndor couldn't take it. She couldn't hold it in. She had to do something. Something. She couldn't stand there, helpless when she clearly wasn't. She had to run away and never look back, had to confront them, had to walk over to the Slytherin and do something. Let all the pent up rage out, hurt her.

Her heart beat faster with every small whimpering protest. With every recognition of those protest turning into gasps of encouragement. Her nails dug crescent shaped marks into her palms, her nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. She was jealous. Hermione's next movements were a blur. All she could make out was the feel of tensed muscles as she ripped the Slytherin from Ginny. The anger bubbling over as she shoved Pansy down. The callousness of her voice as she yelled and threatened. The trembling of her hand as she pointed her wand at the green-eyed witch and the drained feeling in her bones as Pansy simply scowled and walked off.

They just seemed to stare at one another. Their eyes focusing on nothing else. The flow of tears seemed to slow as Ginny brushed them away with her sleeve. This wasn't what she'd wanted to happen. It was far from what she'd wanted to happen. She fell to her knees. The embarrassment, the shame taking over and making her slump guiltily against the wall. She buried her face in her hands and waited. Hermione would leave her. She'd leave, disgusted and angered and she wouldn't want Ginny. She never wanted Ginny.

The broken sight before Hermione made her heart lurch. Ginny looked so small, so tiny. So confused and angry. Self-loath was creeping off of her lithe form in threatening vibes. Hermione didn't think she could stand it. The brunette took slow, silent steps toward Ginny. Her actions fuzzy and deliberate. She held the girl.

Ginny tried to push Hermione away, tried to stop crying. Stop wanting. Stop the desire that built up in her heaving chest. Her hands pushed weakly at Hermione's shoulders, she buried her face in the older woman's neck, and her sobs grew. She gave up; letting her limp form fall into that safe, warm feeling of Hermione's arms. Ginny's sobs died, her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep.

000

The dim glow of morning seeped through the curtains and Ginny groaned. Her head pounded and everything seemed to ache. She buried herself tighter into the comforter and let the warmth of another body against her lull her back into the depths of sleep.

Ginny's eyes flew open. Wide and surprised. Was last night really a dream? The arm around her waist pulled her closer and the feel of soft, trailing lips against her neck made the simmering in her stomach begin to bubble. She leaned into the warmth, groaning. The buzzing tingles made her skin prickle.

A tongue lashed out and she felt the dull throbbing pleasure as teeth nibbled at her sensitive skin. Ginny groaned again. She wondered if it was even real, but the thought was soon brushed aside as a hand traced scorching patterns against her side. Moving slowly towards her bare stomach and then higher until Ginny's slight moans turned into panting gasps.

Teeth nibbled at her earlobe and Ginny nearly drowned in the sensations. She grabbed the hand against her breast and moved it lower, past her taunt stomach, to the aching desire between her thighs. She wanted to stop, but the utterly devouring want wouldn't let her clear the mist of her mind and think. She was stuck in the never-ending burn of passion and she found, she didn't really want to be set free.

She could feel the skin against her own getting slick, the breath against her neck hot and shuddering. The bare breast against her back driving her insane. She moaned loudly, taking in that familiar alluring scent. The movement of the hand stopped and in the next moment the warmth was gone and the urge in the pit of Ginny's stomach was stronger than ever.

The red head turned her cloudy eyes towards the object of her desire. She licked her dry lips. Her slick skin glowing pale in the scant lighting. Her red hair spread across the deep red sheets. Ginny sat up slowly, crawling towards Hermione, the abandoned look of want beginning to take over the other woman.

Hermione woke, her eyes wide, her breathing hitched. She looked down at Ginny's peaceful form. Her eyes traced the lilting curve of the younger woman's neck, the sultry pout of her red lips and she wished those enticing blue eyes to be open. To look at her the way they had in her dream, the way they had before everything went wrong.

The brunette ran a finger across those tempting lips. Wondering whether or not it was okay to kiss the girl. Her fingers trailed down along Ginny's neck. Hermione just watched the red heads peaceful expression. Was it okay to be touching her? To be watching her as she slept. Her hand crept further down, running over the swell of Ginny's breast and then across her taunt stomach.

Hermione leaned in closer, her position on top of Ginny shifting. Causing the red head to stir slightly. She pressed her lips to Ginny's, her hand running up along the younger woman's thigh. Ginny groaned, half conscious and wanting. She kissed Hermione back and their tongues clashed.

The blue-eyed girl's hands slipped under the confines of Hermione's shirt, running up along the brunette's back. Hermione's fingers moved slowly, deliberately against Ginny's clit. The younger woman moaned and the brunette's teeth nibbled softly at the nape of Ginny's neck. Hermione slipped a finger slowly into Ginny. Nails ran sharply down the older woman's back.

Blue eyes shot open, hands halting all movement. Hermione rolled her thumb gently over Ginny's clit. Despite her slight confusion Ginny's eyelids felt heavy again and she moaned louder, beginning to move against Hermione. All she knew was that Hermione was there, that she had her hand between Ginny's thighs and her soft lips against the red head's aching body. And then she began to question things. Where were they? Why was Hermione there? Why couldn't she just lose herself to the want and let Hermione touch her?

"Hermione…" She didn't mean for it to come out that way. For her voice of protest to come out as a breathy moan. But what Hermione was doing. The sensations that were engulfing her… she couldn't seem to pull away. She threw her head back in carnal urge as Hermione's tongue lashed out against her nipple.

She was panting hard. Moaning and gasping. She moaned again. Her tone wanting, words deceiving. "S-stop. Hermione…oh..."

Hermione willed herself to stop. To act on Ginny's request. But the slick, warm wetness against her fingers told her otherwise. She was trying to pull away from the suffocating desire within her. She looked down at Ginny, swirling chocolate pools darker than the night outside. Ginny moaned and the pressure against Hermione's fingers increased. Ginny's eyes were pleading with her, begging her to continue, begging Hermione to stop.

The brunette pulled away. Drawing back from Ginny's enticing form. Getting up and walking numbly towards the window. She took a deep breath, it came out shuddery. She looked down at her hand, the glistening warmth staring back at her. She wiped her hand off on the fabric of her unbuttoned shirt.

Ginny sat up, her stomach churning and the throbbing between her thighs intensifying. Why did she stop Hermione? She sifted through her cloudy mind for an answer. The red head looked over at Hermione. She took in the hurt and concerned expression across Hermione's face. Ginny's heart leaped and she voiced the answer to her unspoken question in a hoarse whisper.

"It's not this simple…"

Hermione turned to look at the younger woman. The distracting sight of Ginny's near nakedness made it hard for Hermione to listen completely. The brunette licked her swollen lips. She couldn't say anything, she didn't.

"I-I can't do this Hermione." She stared into endless pools of desire and almost caved in. Almost let herself tell Hermione to… "I can't keep waiting. Hoping you'll choose me. That you'll love me. That you don't want my brother. Make up your mind Hermione."

000

Author's Note:

Heh. It's been a while. But yay! I updated. I've just been so busy lately. Damn school. We have a new principal. From what I hear, she's a bitch. But I dunno. I think the school is more organized now. Some people just don't like change I guess. So yeah, I may end this in the next chapter. An Oooooooo! I have a surprise for anyone who read _Just A Game_! I'm making a fucking sequel! Yay! One condition though, its not coming out until this fic and another of my many unfinished ones are completed.


	7. Wounds

Debauchery

**Wounds**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Femme slash.

Thanks:

Blahhh: Are you trying to spell school or full? If you mean school, its not a school full of lesbians… its just that my main characters happen to like women. But if you mean full… Dunno. Could be one of many reasons. Maybe its cause this is a femmeslash based fic. Maybe its cause I'm a big 'ol lesbian. Or maybe the story just went in that direction. I think the real question is… why does it matter?

Arachelly: Whatever. You never reviewed anything else. .:tear:. You don't love me! And that makes me unhappy. Haha. Yes, I'm very happy.

Ab23deoe: Eh… it wouldn't suck too much. Well, not for me. I'd get it outta the way. Then I'd be able to work on other stuff and maybe make new stuff. Hoorah…

Angel-1844: Cliffhangers… ahhhh. I hate 'em. But only when other authors make them. Haha. This'll probably be the last and I'm still not sure what or even who Hermione is going to choose.

FiresOfDeath: When I feel like it. :)

Lady Felton1: Or else what? You'll tell my mom? Lol.

And thanks to Galandria, HybridMutant and anyone else who may have read but didn't leave a review.

000

The brunette stood before the foggy glass, staring. She'd been there long after Ginny had rushed out. She'd watched the girl's form evaporate through the reflection of the glass. It seemed so unreal. Was it even real? What was real anymore? Hermione sighed. Was the wet droplet running down Ginny's cheek, as she stared at Hermione through the glass, real. Or was it just a mocking droplet of rain sliding down the glass.

She tensed. She knew what she had to do. And she had to do it now. Hermione stood from her gloomy perch. She buttoned up her shirt half-heartedly and strode firmly through the door and down the marble staircase. It was before dawn and she knew no one would be up. She entered the common room. There, by the fireplace. A head of red hair, illuminated by the fire burning, warming and chilling her bones.

Hermione made her way over to Ron. Determination in her eyes and a sinking feeling in her gut. She had to know. She had to know _now_ or she'd never figure it out. She'd never have the guts or the will to do so.

The tall red head stood before her. Eyes hard, connecting with her own and sending chills down her spine. Those were haunting eyes. Those were confused, wanting eyes. He watched her through those clear blue depths, took in her ruffled appearance, her bloodshot eyes and that determined stare. This was the woman he was in love with; this was the woman he was slowly dying for.

She gripped the front of his shirt tightly and pulled him close. She needed to do this. She needed to do it right. To feel his body pressed against hers as intimately as possible. His eyes never left her own. She wouldn't let them. The enticing pull of lusty brown pinned him to an invisible slate. He was lain out on an operating table and Hermione had all the pointy objects spread out, ready to cut trough. To pierce any organ that he may have left exposed.

Her lips met his. Their eyes closed. It was soft, slow, a verse in a lilting song. Ron could feel that familiar pulsing hum, that sweet allure. It was warm. His arms went around her, pulling her closer. He poured everything into her. Every feeling, every thought, every beat of his heart. It was hers to take. The kiss became harsh, more bruising. The heat was burning him, melting him into oblivion. She wanted him.

One hand cupped her cheek, long fingers gripping her face and pulling her closer. His other hand crept quickly up the front of her shirt. She didn't stop him. She needed this. She needed to know.

000

"You know," A voice spoke from the shadows, startling her. "The corridors before dawn, aren't any more private than the corridors during the day."

She looked up. Meeting cool emerald tinted eyes. She laughed cynically and swiped lightly at her tear-streaked face. "What are you doing here?"

Harry Potter sat down next to her. His enticingly gloomy emerald eyes never left her form. He watched her through the corner of his eye. Her red hair seeped like waterfalls of blood through her delicate fingers. Sapphire eyes were set at an invisible spot on the cold stone floor. Every once in a while those shining blue gems would be veiled by thick golden lashes and Harry's breath would catch in his throat.

The raven-haired boy bit his bottom lip and looked away. He couldn't stand the tempting pout of her primrose lips. He took a slow, calming breath and turned to face her. She was watching him. Eyes shining like precious jewels trained on him. On the shape of his lips. On his dark, thick hair. Boring deep into his own emerald eyes. Looking at him the way he'd wished she would…. Before. The way he wished she'd look at him before.

"I was looking for someone I thought I'd lost." He was surprised by the seriousness in his tone. By the curiosity seeping across Ginny's face.

000

_His hand slid down the length of her bareback. His lips were smothering, his mouth suffocating. She kissed him back, her eyes shut tight. Why did she want to break away? Why couldn't she just feel that…. That spark? That burning passionate fire she felt with Ginny. Why couldn't she love him? She pushed the question back, her fingers fumbled for the buttons on his shirt._

Hermione's eyes glazed over. Thinking of what had just happened with Ron moments before. Ages ago. Her footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors. The taste of his mouth wouldn't leave her. Neither would the aching sensation of dread coursing through her veins. She needed to find Ginny. To tell her. She needed to tell her she loved her.

_She tangled her fingers in his red hair. It was so similar, so like _hers_. But he wasn't _her_. He could never be _her._ Her stomach churned with uncertainty. The coarse feel of his lips against her neck made her draw back slightly. Ron was caught off guard by the action. She wanted him. She didn't speak a word, didn't seem to make a real sound. But her actions spoke louder. The whisper of her fingers down his back, the press of her soft lips to his own. Those gestures told him what he wanted to hear._

_When he looked into her hazel eyes. He saw nothing but desire. The red headed man never gave a thought as to whether or not she was really looking at him. Really seeing his blue eyes and not his sisters._

The brunette shook the memory from her mind. What had she done? She hated how she'd used him. He was one of her best friends. She hated that he'd been used as such a tool. That when she had looked into his eyes she saw nothing but an ocean of blue that was a shade too light. An ocean she couldn't get lost in. She couldn't get lost in the simple intensity. His eyes didn't shine like sapphires. They were too warm, too cozy to drown her in the depths of the ocean or chill her with the cold glare of hard blue gems.

_Her palms ran down his muscled chest. He was too hard. Too toned and not as soft. His skin wasn't the milky white color _hers_ was. Because he wasn't _her_. She trued to loose herself in the intensity, in the feel, the lure, the desire. Hermione shut her hazel eyes and tried to block out the rough feel of his body. His shoulders were too broad, his hair was too short, eyes too bright a blue. _

_Her back hit the cold stonewall. They were farther from the light of the fire. The heat was gone, the bright fire dimming and seemingly so far away. She shivered; goose bumps ran up along her body. Only the cold feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach was left as his fingers trickled up her thigh, lifting her skirt up over her hips._

Hazel eyes skimmed the forms of two figures. They were touching and yet they weren't. Not really touching but so close to one another. Fingers whispered over skin, the action so barely expressed it wasn't there at all. Breath caressed sensitive flesh in small exhales of warm air.

The faint light of a single torch illuminated golden red and dark ebony. The same light threw shadows against the sharp, beautiful features of the two figures. Their breath mingled in the empty space between their bodies and their dull expensive eyes fluttered shut.

His arms went around her, pulling her closer, hands pressing against her back. Pulling. She didn't move away. She didn't push him away. Ginny yielded to the pull of his sweet breath and the soft caress of his fingers against the small of her back. Their lips touched. Tentative, testing, teasing.

Hermione watched the display. An expression, half bewildered curiosity, half strained malice and half gentle awe, spread across her face slowly. Hazel eyes watched on with a gloomy remorse as the kiss continued. This was what it had come to. This was the end. Her mind had denied her, her heart had led her and her soul was gone.

The brunette turned away from the scene. She didn't know where she was going or if she was even moving at all. She had no destination. Where would she go? She'd started at the end. Images fluttered through her buzzing mind. Images of Ginny and Harry kissing in the corridor. Of Ginny and her before Ron had found out. And then the look of desperation, love, hurt and dejection that had slid across Ron's face.

_Hermione pushed him away, pulling her skirt down. She didn't have enough courage to look him in the eyes just then. The brunette was breathing hard, she saw him get upoff of the ground slowly, cautiously. She couldn't suppress the slow hum of words on repeat in her head. She knew they would destroy her if she didn't say them aloud. If she didn't let them rush out as a refreshing breath of clean air. Her insides were burning. She needed to breathe._

_She looked up at him. She couldn't bear the look on his face. The hurt. It was too much to bear. She needed to breath or she would choke. Air filled her deprived lungs and she led it out in an excruciatingly long tormented confession._

"_I'm in love with Ginny."_

000

Author's Note:

**The end.**

Maybe. Maybe not. I have the "happy ending" chapter but I dunno if I wanna just keep it the way it is. Bleh. We'll see how I'm feeling next week. If I feel like it you get your happy ending. Or maybe I'll just make a sequel... :)


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